


Thanksgiving in Kansas

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: The Designer and the Actor [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Castiel (Supernatural) Has Panic Attacks, Designer Castiel, Kansas, M/M, OC, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 05:14:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: This time, there was no hiding.  They were staying for the entire weekend on this vacation.  Cas had to tell Dean’s family everything.  Whatever they asked, he would have to answer.  It was only fair that Dean’s family learn who their beloved actor was going to marry.





	Thanksgiving in Kansas

**Author's Note:**

> I’m writing these final three faster than I thought I would! Enjoy this part!

Castiel knew what Dean was going to say on the plane. Before Dean could utter a word, Cas said, “I know you can’t save me this time.”

It was Thanksgiving weekend, and Cas had agreed to spend it in Kansas with Dean’s family again. Last year was a simple meet-and-greet. They had sized Cas up, and he had exceeded their expectations.

Still, they didn’t know much about Cas. In fact, they had only interacted with him over the span of a couple hours. Cas was scared speaking to them for a longer time span. However, Dean had more than accommodated him and alleviated his worries.

This time, there was no hiding. They were staying for the entire weekend on this vacation. Cas had to tell Dean’s family everything. Whatever they asked, he would have to answer. It was only fair that Dean’s family learn who their beloved actor was going to marry.

Dean asked warily, “how do you...feel about that?”

Cas delved into his mixed emotions, and couldn’t find a clear answer. “I don’t know.”

Dean took Cas’s hand, partly due to plane turbulence and partly to comfort Cas. “I don’t want you to worry about what they think. I don’t want any apologies from you. I want you to remember something.” Their eyes met. “I will never regret you. I’m marrying you, whether they like it or not. You’re the one for me. This, I know with absolute certainty. So don’t worry about them too much. Just be your amazing self.”

Cas huffed. “Your pep talks are annoying. Stop being perfect for one second, please.”

Dean chuckled. “No. I refuse. Request denied. Not happening in a million years.”

————

The inquisition at Thanksgiving began almost immediately after food was doled out.

Castiel was ready. 

“So,” Mary asked, “what part of New York are you from?”

“Manhattan. Lower east side,” Cas said.

“How’d you get that name?” Sam asked.

“My parents were religious. My older brother, Gabriel, clearly got the better name.”

The table chuckled. Cas was glad they didn’t notice an indicator of his past in that first reply.

“I’ve always wondered about your heritage,” Jo said.

“Because I look exotic?”

“Yes. I’m guessing Italian.”

“Half Italian,” Cas said. “Good job. My mother was Italian and my father was Greek.”

The use of past tense resulted in a beat of silence. Cas was expecting that one. He knew that one was loud and clear. He kept his demeanor calm. His parents had been dead for a long time. It didn’t affect him as much anymore.

“Your parents are…” Mary said quietly.

“Dead. Yes.” Cas shrugged. “Don’t make a thing about it. It happened,” Cas counted, “thirteen years ago now.”

Sam did the math. “Sixteen. Wow. That’s...horrible.”

Cas shrugged again. “I had my brother to take care of me, at least. And friends I could count on.”

“What about other family?” Mary asked.

“My friends are my family,” Cas replied.

“And I thought our lives were bad,” Bobby muttered.

“Why don’t we talk about good things,” Mary suggested. “Like your niece. You have a niece, right?”

“Charlotte. Yeah. Her story isn’t so nice, either. That was a good try, though.” Cas deflated.

Ellen said boldly, “how could that be? She’s just a little girl.”

“Her mother died of cancer when she was two.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Your brother is a single father?” Jo asked. “I didn’t know that.”

“He’s not alone, technically. The saying ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ actually applies in this case,” Cas said.

Dean spoke for the first time since the conversation began. “He means that his family shares a house and helps raise Charlotte. It should be a sitcom, honestly.”

Cas laughed genuinely, the unfamiliar sound shocking Dean’s family with its sweetness. “It should,” Cas agreed, surprised that he felt better from a mere few words from Dean.

Castiel was never letting go of Dean. Ever.

————

Castiel sat outside on a lone picnic table, enjoying the breeze emanating from the tall trees. He enjoyed the country air, he learned. It was a wonderful way to clear his head. He found himself getting more clothing ideas than ever.

Cas drew designs with a pad of paper and a pen, revelling in this short time by himself.

Until Sam appeared.

So much for alone time.

It was fine, though. Cas couldn’t tell Dean’s brother to go away, anyway. That would be rude. And Sam didn’t seem so bad.

Cas focused extra hard on his drawing, Sam sitting across from him. Sam said hesitantly, “hi.”

Cas drew the detailing on his drawing of a skirt. “Hi.”

“I just wanted to say, um. I don’t know how to start this, actually.”

“Well,” Cas continued his design, “we’re both the younger brothers. That’s a commonality right there.”

“What’s your older brother like? Dean always acted like a parent.”

Cas smiled weakly. The skirt should be floral, not striped. He turned to a new page and started again. “Mine too. And now he is one. So that clearly helped him.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a suit,” Cas replied, outlining his skirt on the paper. “And a numbers cruncher, at that.”

“Suit? Numbers cruncher?”

Cas met Sam’s gaze for the first time since he sat down. “In New York, a suit is a guy who has to wear a suit to a formal job. Numbers cruncher means he’s in finance, working in one of those skyscrapers with seventy floors and thousands of cubicles.”

“Ah. Okay. Does that pay well?”

“Being a lawyer surely pays better.”

Castiel felt like he was griping too much. Why was he like this? He was supposed to be getting along with these people. Why was he still on the defense? Cas started to draw flowers on his skirt and tried not to seem so harsh. He asked tentatively, “what kind of lawyer are you?”

“I’m a public lawyer.”

“That must be...awful.”

Sam chuckled. “It was at first. I’ve gotten used to it. My subordinates get the crazier cases.”

“I see.” Cas brushed off his finished design. He was pleased enough with it to close his pad of paper and click off his pen. He gave his full attention to Sam. “Sorry. I get ideas and I kind of,” he made swirling hand motions.

“You weren’t what I was expecting,” Sam said.

“Dean makes me sound better than I am, so I’m not surprised.”

“No. Not like that. Well, I still don’t know enough to make a conclusion.”

Cas opened his mouth and closed it. “I was about to make a horrible lawyer joke. I’m not gonna do it.”

Sam’s mouth quirked upwards. “I’ve decided that you’re disarming. That’s the word. Disarming.”

“You mean that, like, you expected Thanksgiving to be fine, but I dropped serious bombs on you. And now, you were expecting more bombs, but you got whatever this is instead.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Disarming is definitely the word I was looking for.”

“I’m usually far more cheerful. I’m sorry, but these are extraneous circumstances. We have to do the whole past thing, which I don’t like doing. So I don’t know what everyone must think of me, but they must think I’m cagey at best. But I swear I’m okay. Like, I have friends that say I’m an okay person.” Cas’s eyes widened. “I just word vomited. My God. Sorry.”

Sam laughed. “You’re a riot. And don’t worry too much about everyone.” Sam crossed his arms and smiled. “I’m starting to see why Dean likes you. You must have knocked him flat on his dumb ass.”

Cas smiled at the image Sam’s last sentence brought to mind. “Dean surprised me too,” he said softly. He thought of the first time he saw Dean in that coffee shop. He raised his voice to its regular octave and said dryly, “I thought all actors were supposed to be conceited.”

“That was a concern of mine too. When Dean moved to Los Angeles, I mean.”

“Thank goodness he’s not, right?”

“Yeah.”

————

Dean was at a local museum with Cas and his family when Cas made a face. A face that Dean had become accustomed with.

Dean rushed to his side and procured Cas’s pad of paper and pen from his coat pocket. 

That was Cas’s idea face. Dean loved when Cas’s eyes lit up and a small half-smile reached his lips.

Dean instinctively handed Cas his pad of paper — opened to a blank page — and clicked his pen on. Cas took both gratefully and found an open seat. He scribbled away once he found an empty space, his pen creating sloping shapes and hard lines while the pad of paper rested on his thigh. 

Dean finally turned away from the lovely image and realized that Mary, Sam, and Bobby were staring at him.

“Can I help you with something?” Dean’s family pretended to look at exhibits. Dean said under his breath, “I like Cas’s idea face, thank you very much.”

Dean caught Sam’s smile as they went back to the exhibits. Cas returned a moment later, his pad of paper closed and his pen clicked off. He said to Dean, just loud enough for his family to catch it, “thanks, purse.”

Dean tucked the paper and pen back into his pocket, pretending not to hear his family stifling laughs.

He was happy that they were warming up to Cas, anyway.

————

“Oh my God. I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

Castiel laughed at Gabriel’s overdramatic phone greeting. “I’m a survivor, Gabe. Well,” Cas made sure Dean was still in the hotel room shower, “barely.”

Gabriel said, “I’m sorry. I knew this would be hard for you. Hell, it was hard for me too.”

Cas exhaled at the vague mention of Gabriel’s late wife. He sometimes felt a pang of sympathy for his brother, but Gabriel had moved on. He hadn’t had any romantic partners, but he was in a better place now. Cas was grateful for that.

“I think I’ve gotten Dean’s brother to warm up to me,” Cas said.

“That’s progress. Good.”

“I can tell Dean’s sorta...blaming himself for this. He feels like he needs to help shield me, but he knows he can’t. I can tell that bothers him. I called because I needed advice.”

“My advice is to fuck him.”

Cas sighed deeply. “No, Gabe.”

“Kidding. Actually, no. You just gotta be upfront about it. Literally say what you just said to me. Then fuck him.”

Cas snorted. “Fine. I’ll do the first part. Dunno if the other part will happen, though.”

Gabriel laughed. “Take a breath. You didn’t have to call me for this one. You’re not thinking to the best of your ability. Do your breathing exercises, okay?”

“Okay. You’re right. Thanks.”

————

Both parts happened. They talked, Dean understood. They made love for the first time in two weeks, and felt connected again.

————

“He’ll fucking smell it on me,” Dean said nervously.

“Bobby will be able to sense that we had sex?”

“Yes,” Dean said worriedly. “He’ll read my face instantly.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “We’re engaged, Dean.”

“It’s still weird.”

Cas crossed his arms. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

A part of Cas stung, and it came through in his bitter tone. “Put your actor mask on. I don’t know.”

Dean stopped their walking and stood in front of him. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m just saying that, from my viewpoint, the fact that the man that’s like a father to me can smell sex on me is weird. Because it is.”

Cas huffed. He was still peeved. He didn’t want to start an argument, though. Just thinking about it…

Cas felt his vision blur. Oh no. 

Not again. No, no, no.

The hotel wasn’t far. Castiel whirled around and dashed to it, trying not to seem too insane-looking. He went inside the quaint hotel — glad that no personnel saw him — and walked into the lobby bathroom. 

He shut the stall door — once again glad that no one else was in the bathroom — and sat on the newly-mopped tile floor. He laid against the wall and took a few breaths, tears leaking from his eyelids.

He heard familiar footsteps enter the bathroom and a body sit in front of his stall door.

Cas continued his breathing exercises, his heart banging like a gong in his ears. In, out. In, out. In, out.

“Baby,” a distorted voice said against the stall door. “Are you alright?”

Cas kept breathing deeply, not able to answer yet. His vision was still cloudy, and he needed to get a grip. His thoughts were quite loud too. All those terrible self-deprecating thoughts.

“Could you let me in? Please, sweetheart?”

The pounding in Cas’s ears subsided, Dean’s soft voice coming through clearly. He closed his eyes and squeezed them, gathering some strength. He scooted over to the stall door and unlocked it. He made way for Dean to enter. Dean shut the stall door behind him and sat across from him on the tile floor. Cas took a breath and opened his eyes again.

His vision was a tad blurry around the edges, and he wiped away tear tracks. He felt Dean’s presence sitting closely to him, but Dean didn’t touch him. He must have researched panic attacks since Cas’s last one all those months ago.

“I’m sorry,” Cas breathed. “I’m a mess.”

“No, you aren’t,” Dean murmured. “You’re perfect.”

Cas laughed. He laughed and laughed, and he felt himself healing. His vision cleared, his insecure thoughts ceased, and he could calm his pounding heartbeat. Cas stopped laughing at the absurdity of it all and steadied his breathing. He felt better. This was astounding. Dean was astounding.

He said, full of mirth, “I am not perfect, my dear. You are.”

Dean frowned. “I hate to ask this, but...can you tell me what caused that? Unless, you know, you don’t want to, or it would make things more painful.”

Castiel exhaled deeply through his nose. “Panic attacks are primarily unpredictable, but I can tell you the things I was thinking. That, um, may have caused it.”

Dean inclined his head, a signal to begin.

Cas said, “I thought that our conversation would end in an argument. A full-blown argument. I can’t do full-blown arguments. Bickering is fine. That’s normal. I consider that a tamer form of an argument. But full-blown arguments mean that we’ll both yell and say things we shouldn’t, and,” Cas swallowed a lump forming in his throat, “that often results in things that can’t be unsaid. That’s what caused me to spiral down a rabbit hole of bad thoughts. They scared me. If we had that one full-blown argument, we would be done for. I would be done for. We would fracture. We would splinter. We couldn’t repair us, and I love us. I don’t want to be apart from you ever again. The thought of us breaking our engagement and me dying of alcohol poisoning due to the inevitable depression and dark hole I would fall down because of you leaving,” Cas sighed, knowing that he was going into too much detail, and concluded, “i-it wasn’t a fun spiral.”

Cas curled up in an uncomfortable ball, knowing that he said too much. 

But this is what Dean wanted to hear. He should know by now that not everything was candy canes and gumdrop dreams. 

Dean finally murmured in the silence, “Castiel Novak, you are perfect for me.” Dean lightly touched the back of Cas’s hand with his palm. 

Cas uncurled himself from his ball and looked at Dean warily.

Perfect? Was he serious?

Dean sensed the question, a little smile on his lips. “I mean it. You’re perfect for me. You’re perfect because you’ve been through so much in your life, and the only trauma you have is panic attacks, which you can completely control, like the goddamn king you are. Look at you. You look fucking beautiful. You were a wreck not a minute ago and now you look like you could conquer the world. Amazing. But that’s not the only thing that makes you perfect.” Dean turned over Cas’s hand and traced Cas’s life lines with his index finger. “You’re perfect because you’re confident as hell. You’re perfect because you dress like an angel but tease me like the devil. You’re perfect because you don’t care what the paparazzi thinks; you’ll go with me anywhere. You’re perfect because you slept in my terrible trailer for a week without a single complaint. You’re perfect because you made dozens of yarn hats and scarves for the cast and crew when you hardly even knew them; you just wanted to be kind. You’re perfect because you dressed as the spice to my sugar for Halloween even though our couple costumes were terrible. You’re perfect because you taught Charlotte how to ballroom dance, even though you hardly knew what you were doing, because it made her smile. You’re perfect because you sang an overtly sexual pop song in a karaoke bar on a dare, and completely owned it.” Dean smiled at the memories. “There are so many more reasons why you’re perfect. But I got you to stop thinking about what happened, didn’t I?”

Castiel sniffled. It was true. He forgot that he was on the tile floor of a stall in a Kansas hotel lobby bathroom. He forgot that he had a panic attack.

He felt great. Calm. 

Cas threw his arms around Dean’s neck and kissed him, putting his gratitude into the abrupt press of lips. Dean kissed back after a second of surprise, grasping Cas’s jaw for support.

When Cas pulled back, he breathed, “I love you.” Cas inhaled Dean’s strong scent, his cologne still pungent. The scent calmed him, grounded him. On his exhale, Cas asked softly, “your cologne really helps. Can you wear that every day?”

“Okay, baby. Okay.”

————

Castiel was at Ellen’s diner with Dean’s family, picking at his food.

He didn’t have much of an appetite after panic attacks. It was whatever. He would recover by tomorrow.

He ate as much as he could, but Mary looked a little too concerned for Cas.

“You alright, Cas?” Mary asked softly.

“He’s alright,” Dean replied convincingly.

Cas nodded curtly in agreement.

————

“He comes to your defense a lot, doesn’t he?” Bobby asked.

Castiel found himself alone with Bobby and Mary. This was problematic. He stared at the unfinished design in front of him and thought.

They were confronting him on an issue that Cas wasn’t sure he should voice. But maybe they should know. 

Cas said, “he came to my defense because I had a panic attack this morning and I often can’t eat after one.”

Cas drew some detailing on a dress sketch in the beats of silence he received.

He was getting far too good at dropping truth bombs and catching people unaware. But he was being honest because this was Dean’s family. They needed to know that Dean was marrying a flawed person. Damaged goods.

“Your candor is striking,” Mary said.

“You’ve got balls of steel,” Bobby stated gruffly.

Cas was inwardly pleased, but he wore a nonplussed expression. He looked at them and said, “you just nailed why some people don’t like me.”

Bobby looked at Mary. “He’s exactly what the kid needed. A swift kick to the ass.”

Cas continued his drawing and remained silent.

————

“You’re not what I expected,” Mary said.

Now Castiel was alone with Mary. He couldn’t get a break today.

“Sam already beat you to that one,” Cas said neutrally.

Mary chuckled. “Of course he did. You’re a riot.”

“He said that also.”

“Did he?” Mary laughed. “The reason I came over here was to say...that you shouldn’t be afraid to talk to me. You’ll be family soon enough. You can tell me about anything, and I’ll be there to listen.”

Cas wasn’t expecting this in the slightest. He swallowed thickly from emotion. “Um, thank you. That means a lot.”

“I’ll keep Dean in line for you, alright?”

“I can handle him, but thank you.”

Mary laughed.

————

“Hey,” Dean said quietly upon getting a moment alone with Cas, “you feelin’ okay?”

“Yes,” Cas replied.

Dean sighed in relief. They kept their voices at a lower octave due to the family’s just-out-of-earshot proximity. “Okay. Just your appetite is a problem, right?”

Cas nodded.

“Alright.” Dean fixed a strand of hair falling on Cas’s forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay. I feel like we should have canceled-”

“I’m well enough, Dean,” Cas assured him. “What do I keep telling you?”

“That you’re not made of glass,” Dean reminded himself. “Right.” He took Cas’s hands in his own. “You’re amazing. A real role model. My family is starting to really like you.”

Cas raised an eyebrow skeptically. 

Dean smiled. “I mean it. The fact you got Sam to soften up, Bobby to respect you, and my mom to offer her motherly services to you is incredible. I’m pretty sure you can accomplish anything you set your mind to.”

Burgers sizzled loudly on the faraway grill, the sound breaking Dean and Cas from their closeness. They shared a look and laughed.

“They’re both sickening,” Sam said, the family watching the couple curiously.

Dean heard it and put up his fists. “Fight me, Sammy!”

“No fighting, Dean,” Cas chastised.

Dean put his fists down begrudgingly. “Fine.”

Sam laughed loudly.

————

Castiel got hugs from each family member at the airport.

He was shocked. He hadn’t been his usual self this whole trip, but they liked him anyway.

They actually looked sad to see him go. Well, and sad to see Dean leave again until next year.

————

When they returned to Los Angeles, Dean plopped across the table from Castiel. Dean fiddled with a cup of coffee, his forehead creased in thought.

Cas huffed and said, “go ahead.”

“Your panic attacks,” Dean prompted. 

Cas should have known they wouldn’t get past this topic easily. Dean tapped on the side of his mug, staring into the rippling brown liquid. Cas stared at his own hands.

“I’m trying to figure out why they happened like they did.” Dean paused. “I mean, three years. You didn’t have one for three years. Why now?”

“I’m famous now, Dean,” Cas said timidly. “Before, I was one of many fashion designers, a name on a building. No real meaning to me, except for my policies for treating models fairly.”

Dean looked at Cas, a sharp edge to his irises. “That’s not true.”

Cas crossed his arms. “The first one was because I was stressed about London Fashion Week. This second one was because I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

Cas laced his fingers together, staring at them. “Losing you.”

The silence was deafening.

Dean stood and sat in the chair next to Cas. His coffee forgotten, Dean laid his hands atop Cas’s. He said, “I can’t imagine a world where you would lose me.” Dean brushed his thumb over Cas’s engagement ring purposefully, spinning his own ring around with his opposite hand. “These rings make that kinda hard.”

Castiel waited a beat and said, “there are lots of factors that create panic attacks, most of which have no rhyme or reason. Another possibility is that I’ve had too much alcohol and caffeine.”

“That causes panic attacks?” Dean made a face. “That sucks. Anyway, thanks for,” he hesitated, “talking to me about things.”

“That’s what you’re for, right?” Cas chuckled. “Besides sex, of course.”

Dean smirked. “We got nowhere to be today, you know.”

Cas stood abruptly and sat on Dean’s lap, looping his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean tilted his head back and smiled lazily up at Cas. He looked content, relaxed, sublime. Just as Cas liked him.

Cas rested their foreheads together and purred, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> The next installment will be out in a few days. Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
